When Black Friday Comes...

Casey Kasem, the creator and voice of the long-running radio show "American Top 40" has died... another mentor of a generation of radio jocks who changed the way we listened to music. 

People ask me why I wanted to go into radio way back when. Perhaps it was the idea of living like Dr. Johnny Fever or any one of the other crazy folks from WKRP in Cinncinatti.

But most likely it was deeper than that. Guys like Casey Kasem reached into our everyday lives and taught us so much.

The man who taught American kids to count to 40... Backwards. 

Every Sunday morning at 10:00 my local station would play the four hour countdown of the most popular hits on American charts that week. "Counting down the hits from coast to coast". Beyond playing the music, he always weaved a bit of a story between the songs. Never was it some tidbit about which musician was sleeping with whom - he was more gentle and classy than that - but more of an informational feeling. 

I'll never forget the day he taught me (ahem, and of course anyone else listening... but it felt like he was talking to me) about some Police lyrics. In the song "Wrapped Around Your Finger", there is a phrase which was always confusing; 'You consider me the young apprentice, caught between the Scylla and Charybdis'. That sunny Sunday morning Casey explained that was a "fancy-schmancy" way of saying "between a rock and a hard place". Of course he gave me more of the story; something to do with Greeky mythology and a narrow passage of sea if I remember correctly.

I also enjoyed the “long-distance dedications,”, even if it was just to put a smile on my face while hearing this soppy stuff. In this schmaltzy segment Casey would read a tearjerker letter from a sad, lovelorn soul hoping to reconnect with another person far away by dedicating a favorite song. Lovesick stuff generally, but as a former boss of mine would say, "It is certainly shit, but it is good radio shit".

Read more here: http://www.kansascity.com/living/star-magazine/article571470.html#storylink=cpy

His distinctive voice, the feeling that he was taking just to us, the smile that came through the microphone... years before I knew what he looked like, in my mind's eye, he was beautiful. He had me at number 40.

Now that I look back I realize that it wasn't so much the music which kept me listening; it was Casey. It was the comforting velvet warmth in his voice, and genuine interest in the charts and pop music he played which made me a life-long fan.

Radio was better for having known you, Casey. Keep reaching for those stars.
 

 

It's Official! June is Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month in America.

American President Barack Obama has taken an inclusive move forward by releasing a proclamation declaring June to be lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) Pride Month.

I've watched two administrations in the 80's and early 90's which managed to blame us AND ignore us during an epidemic, then in the middle 90's when a supposedly gay-inclusive president signed both Don't Ask, Don't Tell (DADT), and Defence of Marriage Act (DOMA). On to the 2000's as another administration called for a Constitutional amendment denying human rights for gays. 

It is nice to feel that in the White House sits a man who acknowledges and understands our humanity and basic civil rights.

Perhaps I should take a moment to reflect on what has just happened. Consider how unlikely this event would have been even five or ten years ago. It would have seemed like some kind of science fiction theme fifteen or twenty years ago, Gene Roddenberry could have written this. 

Look back and consider how much progress we have made over the last few years with the fall of DADT, the steady march of marriage equality, immigration benefits, federal changes in transgender related policy regarding gender marker changes, the striking down of DOMA, as well as the recent rulings around veteran's benefits for same-sex spouses.

Now the so-called Leader of the Free World has taken this step in the most public way possible. He has asserted that lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender individuals are full and equal human beings who are worthy of dignity, respect, and the full protection of the law.

Once again I am very proud of President Barack Obama. I am also incredibly proud of my gay, lesbian and trans brothers & sisters. So many have stood up and proclaimed that they won't take second-class citizen status any more, and thankfully people are listening. 

Here is his statement in full.

As progress spreads from State to State, as justice is delivered in the courtroom, and as more of our fellow Americans are treated with dignity and respect -- our Nation becomes not only more accepting, but more equal as well. During Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender (LGBT) Pride Month, we celebrate victories that have affirmed freedom and fairness, and we recommit ourselves to completing the work that remains.

Last year, supporters of equality celebrated the Supreme Court's decision to strike down a key provision of the Defense of Marriage Act, a ruling which, at long last, gave loving, committed families the respect and legal protections they deserve. In keeping with this decision, my Administration is extending family and spousal benefits -- from immigration benefits to military family benefits -- to legally married same-sex couples.

My Administration proudly stands alongside all those who fight for LGBT rights. Here at home, we have strengthened laws against violence toward LGBT Americans, taken action to prevent bullying and harassment, and prohibited discrimination in housing and hospitals. Despite this progress, LGBT workers in too many States can be fired just because of their sexual orientation or gender identity; I continue to call on the Congress to correct this injustice by passing the Employment Non-Discrimination Act. And in the years ahead, we will remain dedicated to addressing health disparities within the LGBT community by implementing the Affordable Care Act and the National HIV/AIDS Strategy -- which focuses on improving care while decreasing HIV transmission rates among communities most at risk.

Our commitment to advancing equality for the LGBT community extends far beyond our borders. In many places around the globe, LGBT people face persecution, arrest, or even state-sponsored execution. This is unacceptable. The United States calls on every nation to join us in defending the universal human rights of our LGBT brothers and sisters.

This month, as we mark 45 years since the patrons of the Stonewall Inn defied an unjust policy and awakened a nascent movement, let us honor every brave leader who stood up, sat in, and came out, as well as the allies who supported them along the way. Following their example, let each of us speak for tolerance, justice, and dignity -- because if hearts and minds continue to change over time, laws will too.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim June 2014 as Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month. I call upon the people of the United States to eliminate prejudice everywhere it exists, and to celebrate the great diversity of the American people.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this thirtieth day of May, in the year of our Lord two thousand fourteen, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirty-eighth.

BARACK OBAMA

Want to read a bit of my "Why I came to Berlin" story?
Here is a blogpost which has most of the 411.

You don't have to be a brain to be boss, just an Asshole.

When the Body was First Made,
All Its Parts Wanted to be Boss... 

THE BRAIN SAID : Since I control everything and do all the work I should be boss. 

THE FEET SAID: Since I carry man where he wants to go and get him to do what the Brain wants, I should be boss. 

THE HANDS SAID: Since I must do all the work and earn all the money to keep all the rest of you going, I should be boss. 

THE EYES SAID: Since I must look out for all of you and tell you where danger lurks, I should be boss. 

And so it went with the Heart, the Ears, and the Lungs. 

Finally the Asshole spoke up and demanded that he be boss. All the other parts laughed and laughed at the idea of an asshole being boss. 

The Asshole was so angered that he blocked himself off and refused to function. Soon the Brain was feverish, the Eyes crossed and ached, the Feet were too weak to walk, the Hands hung limply at his side, the Heart and Lungs struggled to keep going. 

All pleaded with the Brain to relent and let the Asshole be boss, and so it happened. All parts did the work and the Asshole just bossed and passed out a lot of shit. 

MORAL: You don't have to be a brain to be boss, just an Asshole.

Years ago I saw this text on a poster in Spencer's Gifts (ya'll Americans remember Spencer's, don't ya?). Every once in a while it pops into my head in daily life. It is oh. so. true.
P.S. This isn't about my boss, just about anyone who is in control simply because they are an asshole.

I Have Anger Issues About Fred Phelps

It is not actually in my nature to hate people. In general I try to find at least one redeeming quality about a person, and hang on to that. But a huge exception in my life has been hate monger Fred Phelps and his freaky lawyer family. 

Recently Fred's estranged son has let the word out that his father is on his deathbed and has been recently excommunicated from the family church. Such lovely news which has stirred some interesting thoughts in my head of late... mainly how I will celebrate his being wiped from the earth. 

Hate isn’t always simply an emotion or some abstract state of mind. In my reckoning, hate even has an address. In this case, it resides at 3701 SW12th Street in Topeka, Kansas, where it lives with the Westboro Baptist Church (WBC) community and its leader, the Reverend Fred Phelps who, along with his (mostly family) congregation, has made headlines around the world for hostile public declarations and incendiary protests against people and causes he considers to be sinful in the eyes of God.

These people have tried my patience in the name of abusing free speech since the late 80's. He first came into my world as he picketed the funerals of friends of mine who were victims of AIDS. His scary group is from Topeka, Kansas and I was living in Wichita, just two hours away... So I was an early witness to his special brand of ape shit crazy. 

In the late 80's and early 90's the gay men who had been smart enough to leave Wichita for gayer pastures were coming home to die. Unknowingly they were the first warriors in the AIDS Crisis. 

After coming back to the homeland with this terrible disease which no one seemed to understand - and Ronnie Regan wouldn't even acknowledge - many of them were shunned by their families and the local hospice care wouldn't even take them in. A group attached to one of the local gay churches started a hospice house and I volunteered. I answered phones, brought food, and gave general assistance to the medical staff who would come by periodically. 

These men were dropping like flies, with most of the scant research money available going to finding easier ways to diagnose and prevent the disease rather than treat it, a diagnosis of HIV-AIDS was a quick death sentence. Many didn't last more than six months after diagnosis. 

I went to more funerals than I care to talk about. Sweet young men taken out in the prime of their lives... and then there was the Phelps clan to remind me again of how many people actually hated us just for being ourselves.  

During those times I took my own vengeance in small ways, some of them we won't talk about here. One moment of inspirational genius came to me in the back pages of the local gay and lesbian magazine. Free samples of mfm porn sent to your home! ;) I even went to the library to get their address (this was a long time before the Internet, kiddies). The irony of the Phelps compound's postal code starting with 666 was not lost on me. 

In those days it was just the gays... Gage City Park in Topeka had been known as a place for gays and lesbians to be together outside of the bars - OK, and some cruising, of course. Phelps and his 13 kids had been picketing that park for years. This hit me personally. When I was underage, I would spend a lot of time hanging out in Wichita's "gay park". It was one place that my friends and I could just be ourselves. I remember very well reading about the picketing in Gage Park and thinking that if the Phelps brand of crazy came near my Oak Park, I could not be responsible for my actions.

But of course they didn't really receive media attention until their protests at Matthew Shepard's funeral. Matthew was the homosexual college student from Laramie, Wyoming who was tortured, beaten and left for dead on a fenceline in rural Wyoming. His death sparked local and national hate crime legislation, but it also brought the Phelps family into the spotlight as the Phelps children picketed Matthew's funeral next to adults holding signs which proclaimed "Thank GOD for AIDS" and other lovely epitaths.  

Since that time they've become infamous for their special brand of crazy protests. Saying that America is doomed, that the wars are GOD's wrath for America's increased acceptance of homosexuals, picketing the funerals of anyone who seems to support gay rights, and yes, even the Jewish community is a target for these silly assholes.

One must remember that all of this seems to have been simply a business to Fred and his family of lawyers and paralegals who used their pretend family church of hate to sue anyone who obstructed their right to free speech.  They twisted the law to their own financial benefit in more ways than can be counted. They were the thorn in the side of the legal world in Topeka and Kansas, spreading into the federal realm as well. It seemed that their modus operandi was to sue a person or a company in the hopes that they would just settle... and many did. 

Although he was eventually disbarred from the legal profession, he caused lots of trouble along the way. Fred even sued a local legal university insisting that it admit his children so that they could study law... on the basis that they were a minority because of his civil rights movement. They sued Sears for $50,000 because of a late TV delivery (they lost). They sued a court reporter who they insisted came late with an important document.  Religion and Christianity had nothing to do with their lawsuit business, it was just a way to finance their own brand of hate.

A FABULOUS moment for the gays was when a house across the street from the WBC compound was taken over and painted with rainbow colors... The Equality House was born. Ah... a constant rainbow presense in their lives, I hope they enjoy it.  

I've had to evaluate how I feel about all of this. Since the story has broken about him being on his death bed I've had mixed emotions. The first one was to picket his damn funeral and dance with gay glee on his grave. OK, so that probably won't happen. I understand that I certainly wouldn't be alone. Think about it, how sad is your life when hordes of people are celebrating your impending death? 

My next thought is that I hope he rots in hell. Funny statement from an Atheist. But if there really is a God and a heaven and hell, I hope this guy gets everything which is coming to him. If NOTHING else, that whole "taking the Lord's name in vain" stuff should get him in hot water. 

In the end what do I really feel? Relief. 
Soon this appaling excuse for a man will be in the ground. 
Also hope that his legacy will simply wither away to nothing now that the figurehead of the family is gone. 

Something else niggling around in my head is the interesting side note that Fred Phelps was excommunicated from his own church in August of 2013, moved into a different house and placed on a suicide watch. Right now I am wondering why. What could he have done to get kicked out? Maybe in the end he finally admitted that the base of his disgusting homophobia is rooted deeply in his own homosexual feelings.

NKP - Never Know Peace Fred Phelps. I hope your hate dies with you. I know that I will breathe easier knowing that you no longer walk this same earth.

Edit 20 March, 2014

Phelps has died. While it pains me to say it, I am happy that this sad little man who has spread hate in so many ways... is worm food. My prediction; the family he leaves behind which has been steeped in hate, will turn on each other. The "church" will change direction. They will go another way in order to remain tax free and continue to use the law to their benefit. His daughter who was the most vocal other than Fred, has already been pushed aside and several male members have taken over. Hopefully they decide to stop spreading their hate so widely and just turn everything within and let it stay there. NKP Fred Phelps.

The End of an Era

In the past few days I had the chance to see the final Harry Potter movie... in 3D, no less.

The word bittersweet comes to mind when I think of the end in a series which I really enjoyed watching.

I hated Snape, wished I'd had a leader like Dumbledore, wanted Ron to be good at Quidditch, understood Hermione, and knew that no matter what, Harry would do the right thing for the right reasons.

Being a wizard (or witch in my case) would have been sooo convenient. There have been times in my life where I wish I could use the "Reparo" spell. Of course "Accio TV Remote" would have been cool, or there are so many times I could have used the "Point Spell" which would make a wand into a compass. These spells even worked their way into my everyday conversation. I remember once telling a friend to stop being mean or I would "... get all Avada Kedavra on their ass".

Not bad for a franchise that in the beginning I had poo poo'd.

When I first heard about Harry Potter it was the as "The Philosopher's Stone" came out. I worked in morning radio at an "adult contemporary" station (read women/moms 25-45). It was our job to know the pulse of our listener, and these ladies were talking about a movie their kids had been begging to see. A British flick about some teenager who goes to a school to learn magic.

OK, so how do we "own this" as the jock used to say? Well, we could have a look-alike contest on the opening night. Sure. Who's going to judge it? Um... none of us, we had NO idea what it was even about, let alone what the kid looked like. So we coupled with a local movie theater to give us a party room before the film, found a mom who seemed to know what she was talking about to judge the thing, got the theater to provide a prize package which we sweetened with some other stuff we had lying around. Alright, that's settled... now who should go? Crickets.

Let's send Snooker! Yes ladies and gentlemen, our high-priced talent would not be caught dead darkening such a scene... so they sent the producer who had actually put all the other stuff together, so surely she would be the best choice, right? Yeah, my job was pretty glamorous, haha.

The night of the movie premiere the place was swarming with kids. Out of all of them, there were about 20 who had been creative enough to enter the contest. Some had recycled Halloween vampire costumes and wore a scarf in what I later learned to be Gryffindor-colored stripes. Others had gone all out and found round glasses.

One kid - the winner it turned out - had actually used makeup to make a lightning-shaped scar on this forehead. It didn't matter that he was blond, the judge-mom said that was the best idea, so he was the winner. (I really wish that I still had the pictures I took at these events) The rest of the kids ended up getting tickets and a free popcorn from the theater, they all received radio station bumper stickers... 'cause EVERY kid NEEDS a bumper sticker, you know.

No, sadly I didn't watch the movie that night. I headed home after a super long day of work (morning radio starts before people wake up... ahem... dark thirty, so to speak). I came to regret that decision.

When the second movie came out, I allowed my curiosity to get the best of me and did a Dollar Theater visit. This was the Chamber of Secrets, and not a bad movie at all. OK, I said, I will catch up on the first one, and watch the others as they come out, which I did faithfully.

Once I made it to Germany in 2005 I found myself with lots of time on my hands which lead me to perusing my new wife's book shelf. She had purchased the first Harry Potter and gotten partway through it before coming to the conclusion that she doesn't really enjoy fantasy, and it had been gathering dust on the shelf ever since. I poured through it and hungered for more (like so many others before me). Not having much extra money, and seeing the waiting list after doing some research at the only English library in town, I realized that my options were limited.

I downloaded the 2nd book, yes illegally... no, I don't think JK Rowling will be hurt by it. Pre-Kindle days, books could be read on an Palm device, and I had a nice one. I had been reading Gutenberg-downloaded classics for a while, so it made sense to try. Google search brought me to a few places where I could download all HP books to date as .pdf and view them on my Palm, so that is what I did. One after the other, I read them. Carrying around my Palm and pulling it out whenever I had an extra three minutes... waiting for a train, standing in line, waiting for a movie to start, anywhere, anytime. I even read in bed, the backlight feature allowing me to read all night long if I wanted to, if my nose was cold I read under the covers... just like Harry. Well, I didn't have the cool wand and the "Lumos" spell, but it was a close second.

Of course these .pdf's were usually simply re-typed by some person with more time on their hands than typing talent, so there were errors, but that didn't matter to me. Then there was the time I started reading "The Order of the Phoenix" and quickly realized that the writing quality was nothing like the magic of J.K. Rowling. It turned out to be a work of fan fiction, written by someone with a love of Harry coupled with a creative mind. I eventually read it all because it was rather interesting. Harry developed a love of jogging, really got back at Dudley Dursley in an evil way, and eventually got into Hermine's pants. Whew... that was a wild ride, let me tell you!

Waiting for the last book was the hardest. A friend and I queued at the bookstore for the midnight release. I read the entire book in one weekend, laughed, cried, yelled in frustration, and generally had a lovely time. Poor Sweet No just kind of drifted in and out of my life that weekend, making fun of me as she passed the vacuum cleaner under my feet.

Not to introduce any spoilers, let's just say that the movies were great but the books were still better. Character development was fantastic and the stories felt so believable. J.K. Rowling is rolling in money, and I am happy for her.


I really WANT to find out that there REALLY IS a Hogwart's or something like it, even if I wasn't invited. Am I alone? What about visiting the Harry Potter Theme Park in Orlando? Would you spend your hard-earned money to visit the studio where much of the film series was made?

And what of JK Rowling? There is a 19 year gap to fill, as well as the possibility to write about what happens to the kids of the magical trio. Would she, could she, SHOULD she write more about the adventures of Harry Potter?

Bittersweet indeed. But our ride on the Hogwart's Express has been enjoyable.

Dear Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport

Dear Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport,

My recent overnight stay in your older but generally uninteresting Terminal 2 due to a canceled red eye flight was not really the highlight of my trip, but it did certainly put an unusual cap on what had turned out to be a rather unpredictable excursion overseas.

Being part of a group of people who have just had their lives changed by those silly words, "Flight Canceled" is not always a nice experience, but at Sky Harbor, at least it wasn't sooo horrific. It must be said that at least the place is kept clean. Since I was not allowed to stay in the gate area, I was witness to the cleaning crews as they waged war on dust particles all along the "lobby". As I loitered in what must be the world's most uncomfortable seats I was treated to one woman "training" two others how to clean. Not really a lot of fun, but was very entertaining since none of the three had a common language.

I've been using Sky Harbor Airport since the mid 80's when jetways were a luxury and disembarking customers were shuttled down steps onto the slightly mushy tarmac which had been subjected to the heat of both jet engines as well as the wilting temps of the Phoenix desert weather.

Perhaps I should let it be known that I think the name Sky Harbor is fantastic. It is a harbor for things which fly through the sky. How simple, how eloquent, how lovely.

Also, the airport's fantastic location in relation to where my Mother lives has made visiting her oh so very simple. My Mother and brother live 10 and 15 minutes away respectively, how great is that? I can pretty much call my brother right after touch down and know that he will be waiting for me outside after I pick up my luggage.

IF they didn't live so close, there are great options such as the "Cell Phone Waiting Lot" system which is pure genius! How smart is that? Call your source of transportation as you see your bag pop out of the baggage claim, and BOOM, they drive directly out of the special lot to your pick up point!

May I just discuss another point of genius? Free Wi-Fi everywhere in the airport! How freaking fantastic is this? Flight canceled? Crank up that computer and see what else is available. Bored while waiting for your flight? Play some online video games, catch up on a little work, or simply research your next vacation.

Need to get a message to a passenger coming into Sky Harbor? You can either do this through the Internet, onsite at a special terminal, or by phone. At the baggage claim and at other areas throughout the terminal there are huge signs with PAL (Paging Assistance Location) displaying personal messages such as; "Bill and Judy, we'll be on the north side exit waiting for you at door number 5". Wow!

Years ago I had a proposal of marriage in one of PHX's terminals but perhaps the PAL system would have been better for this. The girl I was dating had been thinking for some time about popping the question to me. We were going to be in the same terminal of PHX within about 12 hours of each other. She called me and told me to visit the ladies restroom closest to blah blah (I say blah blah because I have long since forgotten the details) gate. Then I was to go into a particular stall and get my message. As I had suspected she was asking me again in a new and different way if I would marry her. No, I didn't take her up on it and later when we met again in Wichita I turned her down again. Moral of the story, never accept a proposal of marriage made in a toilet or from someone who would think that location was cool/romantic.

Then there was the Box Knife Incident. It was fall of 2002 and I was to catch a flight in Terminal 4. I went through security to my gate only to find it was still deserted because I was there so very early. Already seated there and looking bored was a woman who checked me out surreptitiously when I came to sit down. As I neared my chosen area I saw a box knife simply lying discarded on one of the seats. This was much like the weapons supposedly used by the terrorists on 9/11.

I approached it while visions danced through my head of the security detail I had just gone through to get to this supposedly "secure" area of the airport. Once again I met the eyes of the only other passenger in the waiting area. As I looked from her back to the box cutter I got the idea that she had already noticed what I had found and was also unwilling to touch it.

Eventually we talked about it and I told her that I would like to take the potential weapon of mass destruction to the check in desk, but that I would like her to confirm to anyone with further questions that it was sitting there before I had even made it to the area. She concurred and we talked for a minute or two about how that thing could have gotten past security and why on earth someone had abandoned it there. Soon I got up and carried it very cautiously (you know, by the edges to keep from smudging any possible fingerprints - have I watched too many cop shows or what?) over to the desk with three airline employees.

The airline representative took one look at what for me was a dangerous object and simply grabbed it out of my hand (not caring about any fingerprints, let me tell you) and threw it in the trash can at her feet. I nervously told her that it was not mine, that I had found it on a seat in the waiting area opposite, and that I was worried about it. She dismissively told me that I had done the right thing and that now it was safe. WTF? It was safe? In her trash can? To this day I often wonder if that was some kind of test.

Through the years I've been in and out of this airport MANY times. So many times that I know which side of the plane to sit on to get the best view of "A Mountain", and what time of day is best to see shadows on the ridges of the local physical geography. Want any of that goofy information? Simply ask.

OK, enough of airports... let's get a look at a frustrated kitty.
Oh, you have to watch through to the end. ;)

Five years ago today...

Five years ago today I left my adopted hometown and moved to Berlin, Germany.

Five years ago
I awakened to the realization that "This is it". In a few hours I would be on a plane which would carry me across the Atlantic to live with Sweet No.

Five years ago
I gave Frank a "special pill" which would help him remain calm and hopefully help him hold his bladder for over 15 hours.

Five years ago
I called my mother to let her know that today is the day. I explained that my bed was being moved out of the apartment, the microwave was going to a neighbor, the cat box is in the trash (much to the chagrin of the dumpster-diver who crawled in a few minutes later), and "NO MOM, I'm not out of my cotton-picking mind".

Five years ago
I shoved Frank in a leather gym-bag-looking thing and told him that it was going to be just like our "dry runs"... that he would be getting out soon. (I just didn't tell him how long "soon" was.)

Five years ago
I walked away from my father and his wife as they stood in the Wichita airport and waved a bewildered good bye. Later my father confided that he wasn't sure he would ever see me again. This might explain the watery eyes and his strange insistence that I take a twenty dollar bill, "For the way there. You never know, you might just need it." (I still have that twenty. It stayed stashed in a special compartment of my wallet for over four years. Now it is on my desk.)

Five years ago
There was no way for me to explain to him that I had enough money, that I wasn't falling off the face of the Earth, and that I had thought this whole thing through many times. "For pete's sake Dad, I've been planning this a year."

Five years ago
I sat in Paris' Charles de Gaulle Airport and pondered my situation while the cat loudly expressed his discomfort and irritation at his situation. (Occasionally to amuse myself I closed the flaps on the bag and looked around at other people with interest and curiosity as though I too was trying to find the source of the howl which was at a volume and frequency only a Siamese cat can achieve.)

Five years ago
I was met at the Berlin airport by my Sweet No. For what seemed like an eternity we could only see each other through the glass as I waited in the secure area for my baggage. Eventually no new bags came, and yes as feared, once again Air France had lost one of my bags. GREAT. Now I'm even MORE thankful that I decided to pay the extra dough to keep the cat on the plane as carry on baggage. (The joke was on the guy who later had to deliver my bag - which weighed exactly 50.1 pounds - up four flights of stairs.)

Five years ago
I wheeled a cart out of security which held only one of my bags and a very pissy cat.

Five years ago
I knew the instant No and I hugged for the first time as a true "cohabitating couple" that four years of waiting for this moment was way too long and that my decision to move to be with her had been the right one.

Five years later... I look back on this time spent together and know deep in my heart that I have not regretted any of it, not for a moment.

Random Tuesday - Halloween Edition

How about another spin on the RTT?

Don't know what I am talking about? Visit Keely over at the Un-Mom for all the info. She has all the answers... except how to live Drama Free.

Would someone please tell the FDP Berlin that the election is over and that we are all aware that they won more votes this time than ever before? SO maybe now is a good time to take your signs down from all over Berlin. They are detracting from the graffiti. (sorry to the non-German residents... we had an election weekend before last)

Does anyone else read the license plates of the cars around them and make words out of the letters? (crickets) OK, I must be alone here. Oh well, it's not the first time.

Berlin plates start with a B then have a space and then two more letters and a few numbers. I can usually find something in this grouping such as B OY or B ed or B IG... sometimes BIG is even seen on correspondingly funny vehicles such as BIG ASS Trucks or itty bitty cars.

It really gets fun with some of the other German cities... Frankfurt is a "F", so I've seen a couple "FU" plates. Potsdam is a "P" which can be interesting, but "LDS" for an area around Berlin just has me thinking about the Latter Day Saints, hmm. Maybe I'll start taking pictures of the more funny versions... hmmm. Could be a blog post.

Recently I've been asked by a family member if the Germans celebrate Halloween. As I told her, we really haven't seen much, although it seems to be growing. Last year we had a few Trick or Treaters but they don't seem to "get it". They just ring the bell and then hold out their bags when you open the door. Not even so much as a "Trick or Treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat". Oh, and no thank you or anything. (I remember this behavior from the four year olds... but here it is the twelve year olds too.)

I keep wondering what the sweet old German Omas (grandmas) are thinking when this happens at their doors...

Are there kiddie costumes in the stores? Not that I've seen. Do adults have parties? Not that I've been invited to. Will I have a party? No, I'll be scuba diving in the crystal clear, blue waters of Tahiti for Halloween this year. (not that I'm excited or anything)

BUT I did get the grins as I walked into my local grocery store a few days ago. Storck products, maker of Nimms and Lach Gummies (fruity, chewy candies) had a display of bags with individually wrapped items inside! WOW! This is an improvement.

OK, I should start my work day. Today among other more boring things I will get to go shopping for gifts for clients. For a pregnant woman I've decided on some lovely foot and leg revival from LUSH, and another recipient will get a bottle of Veuve Cliquot Champagne. Fun job, eh?

Have a fantastic Tuesday!

Just because:
Uniting American Families Act - I really wish they would pass this bit of legislation. If so, Sweet No and I (as well as hundreds of thousands of other couples world wide) would once again have some rights.

Where were you?

Eight years later ... and still I cry.
On this day it doesn't matter to me WHO did it, WHY or HOW...
What matters to me are the senseless deaths of that day,
and the deaths of so many innocents since that day.

Been reading:

9/11 as a Lesson, Not a Memory - Where were you when the world stood still? The first set of kids who must be taught about 9/11 are in our schools. What do you teach them? How can we explain to them the pain we felt?

Random Tuesday - Cool Weekend Edition

Hey There! Thanks for dropping in. It's another Random Tuesday Thoughts complete with semi-scary graphic. If you want to know what that thing is all about... head on over to Keely the UnMom, she started it all. Ham? HAM? Dinosaur head? Pink star? Oh, and WHAT is that grey blob on the left side?

Let's take a ride on the bullet point express, shall we?

• I learned a few things in Kansas folks, never dally while passing a semi truck hauling pigs or especially cattle. Perhaps you can imagine what might happen. Those holes on the sides do more than let fresh air in and teh stank out.
  
• You should always live to the east of your work. This way as you drive into the office, the sun is at your back... same with coming home. Much more convenient this way, don't you think?
• This past weekend was a lovely one for me. Jul (of This non-American life) and hubby popped into Berlin for some museum hopping and general sucking up of the Berliner vibe. Although I've been reading her blog for years, meeting her in person was still a surprise. She is very much as I would have assumed, but still there are many aspects I would never have dreamed of - leading to pleasant surprise after pleasant surprise.
• This weekend we also got the keys to our new apartment! Tee hee hee... Let the work begin! Gosh, I could write an entire blog series on what it is like to change apartments in Germany. Let's just say that it is not so easy.
  
• OK... and to top off THAT wonderful news... I finally got my dream camera!!!! The Nikon D90 has been calling to me since it came out, complete with video capabilities and live action view. Tee hee hee!
  
• Sweet No and I are headed to Munich this weekend for We-Bum 2009, which is a yearly get together of expatriate bloggers. Interested in attending? It's never too late to join. Drop a line in the comments and let's talk! Watch out Munich, lots of crazy folks are on their way... and I'm not talking about Oktoberfest!
  
• My Parents-in-Law are great. They love our cat Frank so much that in order for him to be more comfortable while we are gone, they have offered to move into our apartment (amongst the boxes - I don't envy them) during the weekend. Sweet, eh? I wonder if I could ask them to box up the kitchen while they're there? Too much? OK, I won't do it. No, I won't... ahem... NO.
• Our hotel in Munich has Wi-Fi... but it costs 8EUR an hour. WHEN are hotels going to realize that this is a MAJOR selling point for geeks and just give it to us for free? If I had gotten up off my ass and booked sooner, I would have had my first choice in hotels which had FREE Wi-Fi. But ahem, alas... I didn't get a round tuit until this last weekend. We had airline tix months ago, but only because that part fell under Sweet No's job description.
• The teachers union in Kent, WA are on strike. I was a Kentridge Charger for all of about four months in 1984. Seeing this in the news reminds me of my culture shock at this school. I was side by side with Asians and Philipinos for the first time in my life. They had a school-sanctioned smoking area, and covered walking paths between buildings. This is the school where I was first "outed" as a lesbian. Until I moved to the Midwest about two months later (unrelated) I was pointed and laughed at by the students and teachers alike. Nice school, eh? It was a different world. Today I would probably have more friends just because it is now so COOL to be a lesbian. (sarcasm intact)
  

Been reading:
Taxpayer Funded Religious Bias - Father Geoff is at it again, explaining the truths of the bias of the church and how they get away with being bullies while using your tax dollars.

Been surfing:
Following The Trail Of Toxic E-Waste - 60 Minutes is still doing hard-hitting, in your face news reporting I see. But I guess it is better if they do that OUT of the country. Nonetheless the story has me thinking about how many computer monitors I've been through in the past 10 years. Yes, feeling guilty now.

Alright ladies and gentlemen, that's enough for today. Thanks for reading my rambling.

OK, and because I just think it is sooo cute...
I offer you the Durex Bunnies.
Quite possibly NSFW. Oh, and you should have sound.

A question for the bird nerds

I've got a question for the bird nerds.
In North America we can always tell when spring is coming by the spying of the first Robin.
What bird signifies this in Germany/this section of Europe?
What little guy is the harbinger of all things warm, green and wonderful?
In case you haven't noticed... I'M REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO SPRING!

Happy St. Pats!

Happy St. Patrick's Day Everybody!

It just isn't St. Pats without the goofy-assed hat. Let me tell you, I have had quite a few of them through the years. Most of these hats came to me by way of drinking way too much Guinness. This particular St. Pats pimp hat was bought along the parade route in NYC last year. Gotta love it!

For as long as I can remember, my mother has waxed poetic about her Irish heritage and how proud she is to be an O'Connor. The strange thing is her lineage probably has more American Indian. When I was a child and was frequently hearing about the IRA and the almost daily terrorist attacks and killings in Ireland, I had no idea why anyone would want to claim their Irish heritage. It seemed to me that the Indians are a more proud people and more worthy of such respect.

(sarcasm on) Of course at that age I didn't understand the true subtleties of killing over religion, etc. (sarcasm off) But to this day I still don't understand why people (Americans in particular) cling so hard to their Irish heritage while ignoring their heritage from less "exotic" countries. I mean, how sexy is it to say that your great grandfather was Norwegian? Or for that matter... German?

Eh, what do I know?

Thinking about that, when I was telling my American friends that I was going to leave America to live in Germany, it was astounding the amount of people who immediately responded with something similar to, "Hey, I'm German... cool". Um, maybe your great great grandfather was German, but trust me, you are no more German than I am Irish.

Side note. Mom's maiden name had the initials BO (yup, she stank).
She married the first husband... BM (yeah, ask a nurse or a mom if you don't get it)
The second husband... BS (yup, full of it)
and now she's just plain BO again.

Enjoy the holiday... Irish, Norwegian, or German. Or alternatively you just accept your Heinz 57 mixture and be done with it.

Stand by... for news

Paul Harvey, arguably one of the most popular radio commentators of all time, has died.

His entire career, indeed his whole life, was filled with the kind of surprises, twists, and hidden with small details which when put together would have made for a fantastic Paul Harvey broadcast.

Harvey's distinctive halting pauses in his delivery were only a part of his magic for me. Yeah he was just about as conservative as he could get, but when I was a pre-teen in Pennsylvania, his politics were insignificant.

I would find myself pulled inside every beautiful summer day when his steady, deep voice and staccato delivery would thrill me. His was a regular segment on the noon TV news shown on a syndicate station out of Johnstown, PA. There was Baby Snooks lying on her belly, sprawled out on the floor in front of the family console TV, hanging on his every word in what must have been a three to five minute segment. All I could see was this gentle man who had an interesting spin on the day's news and a special way of telling a story.

With him I learned about wildfires in California, earthquakes in Asia, and the Love Canal environmental disaster in New York. With each of these stories he managed to not only tell me the facts of the event, but the emphasis was on the people who were in the middle of these tragedies.

In later years he enthralled me with his folksy "Rest of the Story" broadcasts. It was a special treat to listen as he described someone's humble beginnings and less than stellar circumstances only to find out after a his signature pause that the focus of the story was a famous person.

Suddenly two things would happen, not only had I gained a newfound respect for another human being, but I also learned that even powerful people very frequently start with ordinary lives, and that I too could grow up to be anything I want. "And now," he would conclude... caressing each syllable, "you know the rest of the story."

His broadcasts would uplift me, giving me hope and optimism that the world wasn't as bad as it seemed... that sometimes what we didn't know about a person was much more important than what we did know. Even the stories about people I didn't like would give me respect for that person. This probably is the basis of my belief that every person has some bit of good in them... maybe you have to dig deep to find it, learn more about them to see it... but it is there.

Actually if you think about it, Paul was the first pre-Internet blogger. He would pull a story from whatever source he had available to him, put his own spin and storytelling style onto it, then deliver it to the world in his own voice, with his emotions behind it. The story was still news, but it was a different thing than everyone else was reporting... it was the story behind the story.

One other thing Paul taught me was that giving credit where credit was due was a good thing, maybe even the most important thing. Every time he spoke of his dear wife, nicknamed Angel, the love he felt was pulsating in his voice. It was one of his gifts to consistently let his listeners know that she was a huge part of both his work life and their private life. She was very important to him, and we all were treated to stories about her goodness from time to time.

After graduating college with my broadcasting degree and finally landing a job in radio I was quite frustrated that the only local station carrying Paul's news and commentary was from a competing company. Every once in a while, completely surreptitiously, I would turn my radio over to that competitor just so I could smile with delight when his strong staccato voice would sing out, "This is Paul Harvey ... stand by .. for news!".

The last decade of American radio has seen a steady decline in quality and relevance to the people it claims to serve, and I'm afraid that the huge corporations which run the industry right now will be its ruination. Mr. Harvey was one of the last good things about American radio, I hate to see will happen next.

Memories of Motown

To celebrate the 50th Anniversary of the founding of Motown Records, the Estrel Berlin has opened a delightful show which offers a walk down Motown memory lane. My Sweet No and I were lucky enough to be invited to the premiere of this entertaining stage show celebrating the best Motown hits from the 60's and 70's.

It really was a lovely event bringing out much of Berlin's entertainment "royalty". Before the show there was a mixer with buffet. Our little group kept pointing out famous folks and politicians... hmmm, I have to admit that I recognized only one of them, Roberto Blanco, who seems to be on every musical show produced by German TV. I found a video report by tVB (in German only, sorry) which shows some of the mixer. It was a bit hard to get around to the food with all of the cameras stuck in people's faces. Don't you worry, that didn't stop ME!

Normally the Estrel has a "Stars in Concert" approach with lookalikes recreating the look and sound of big stars such as Tina Turner, (oh my gosh, that reminds me that we'll be seeing the ORIGINAL in just a few weeks... I can barely breathe!) Sting, Louis Armstrong, Rod Stewart, Boy George, Elvis, Cher, Whitney, Joe Cocker, and many more. We get free tickets once in a while, so we take in the show occasionally for a little cheezy Las Vegas feel.

But for this special event, producer Bernhard Kurz brought to Berlin some REAL Motown stars such as The Contours ("Do You Love Me - Now That I Can Dance") and The Miracles, who originally recorded with Smokey Robinson ("You Really Got a Hold On Me" / "Shop Around" / "The Tracks of My Tears"). For the premiere night only the special guest was Martha Reeves of Martha Reeves and the Vandellas, ("Heat Wave" / "Jimmy Mack" / "Dancin' in the Streets").

Martha is still shaking it on the stage, let me tell ya. She's aged (hell, haven't we all), but our table decided that she must be around 70 by now... and if I think of my mother at 70 in comparison to this pro getting up there and doing her thing... well, there is no competition.

It was interesting to see the German audience's lack of response to music which quite simply makes me want to dance. There I am clapping and tapping and shaking in my chair as those around me (including No) are simply staring at the stage... HOW CAN THIS HAPPEN? When the artists invite the audience to clap or sing along, the people just sit there calmly as though making any noise would be disrespectful. This is one thing which I find completely different between the American and German audiences.

Martha even made mention of this in her performance. She was giving the intro to "Jimmy Mack" and was asking the audience to "do something unusual for German audiences" and help her get him to come back by clapping and making lots of noise as well as singing out for Jimmy. Um... no. I would assume that many in the audience simply didn't know the song. Also it is quite possible they didn't understand her... but then it is quite hard to not understand someone standing on stage frantically making the motions of clapping.

Right up alongside those famous performers were a talented group of lookalikes which rounded out the night by bringing many other famous songs from Berry Gordy's Motown; Diana Ross, Marvin Gaye and Jackie Wilson.

On the night of the premiere we were treated to Motown's PR man, Al Abrams, who gave on stage insights into the beginnings of the important recording company. Also onhand was William "Mickey" Stevenson who headed the A&R Department (artists and repertoire). They had some really funny stories to tell about the formative years of a company that opened previously locked doors for black performers.

All in all it was a fun night. Sweet No even recognized some of the songs, although there were many in our group who felt a bit left out because they really didn't know most of the music being played. There is simply an age difference... anyone under 40 is at a disadvantage. Of course there is also the geographical problem. Europe just didn't get to hear a lot of the music we Americans are much more exposed to. But it was universally agreed that even without the recognition, the music was quite enjoyable.

The Estrel put on a good show and did a nice job on the buffet. The white wine was a good quality and the mixed drinks weren't watered down. It was interesting to see them trying to do American food. May I say that it was funny to see two different items made with sweet potatoes (not a normal occurance on a German buffet), and their rendition of roast beef was quite lovely.

If you are a fan of Motown and happen to be in Berlin before the 1st of February, I highly recommend this show!

On a side note: I have a strange affliction with writing the word "Motown". For some strange reason when I type the word itself, I always want to write it "Mowtown".... what is that about? Do other people have this problem? What part of the brain is this? Why this disconnect? What other words cause such troubles for people?

A different take on Take On Me

I'm showing my age here... Yes, I am a child of the 80's. But most of us in this special "age bracket" called Generation X remember fondly when MTV showed MUSIC VIDEOS... yes, believe it or not!

Gen Ex'ers who cultivated their musical taste during the video age probably also look back with a gleam in their eyes when considering videos which seemed absolutely avant garde during "our" time.

Some of these videos were so innovative that the first time we saw them, there was a collective "WOW" by gape-mouthed kids all across North America sitting transfixed in front of their non-remote TV's.

There were many, but "Money for Nothing" by Dire Straits, "Sledgehammer" by Peter Gabriel, and "Rock It" by Herbie Hancock were just a few of mine. (Ahem... we should not have to mention Thriller by the Gloved One. And hey, did anyone else really get the subtext when Michael tells the girl, "I'm not like other guys... no, I mean I'm different". heh heh heh)

Of course "Take On Me" by a-Ha was shot in a new technique which really fascinated not only me, but many others as well.

BUT someone has Karaoke'd this video/song with the literal translation of what is happening in the video! Toooooooo Cuuuuuute! I love it!
"I'm gonna kick some ass with my own pipe wrench"
I giggled for two minutes!

Did you watch it? No?
OK then... you're gonna miss out!

I remember seeing the original video and thinking that one part reminded me very much of William Hurt's freaky scene in "Altered States" (the familiar section starts at 1:02 in this clip - in the a-Ha video it starts at 3:48).

This changing of the lyrics is the kind of crap I would think of while watching these videos. I had a LOT of fun with Janet Jackson's "What Have You Done For Me Lately".

I wonder if other people have as much fun as I do with song lyrics?
There are whole songs that I can't remember the original lyrics. They've been replaced in my memory by improvised verse.

Let's do the Time Warp AGAIN... LIVE!

OK, OK! So I heartily admit that through my senior year in high school and years afterward I was one of the screaming minions in the weekly habit of standing in front of a movie screen chanting "Lips, lips, we want lips".

Rocky Horror Picture Show was an eye-opening experience for this young dyke... and I loved it! All around were people very much like me who didn't really fit into society's idea of normal... and they didn't care, just like me! We had a great band of players and costumers who dedicated hours to "getting it right" and just having fun doing it.

There were pre-movie toasts to the uninitiated "VIRGINS", and in our theatre we had a guy who would do "Spiderman on Acid" before the show. (Basically he would run from one side of the theatre to the other as fast as he could and try to jump on the opposite wall... always landing with a splat and then falling to the floor while scraping his fingernails.) Oh well, we were a diverse group.

The "Rocky Horror Picture show," starring Tim Curry, Susan Sarandon, Barry Bostwick and Meatloaf, has grossed $140 million in domestic box office over the years, mostly from the pockets of youthful audience members who have shown up for midnight screenings over the past three decades.

When I first started attending the audience "par-tis-i-pation" experience, the theatre allowed us to throw toast, rice, toilet paper and newspapers at will as long as we cleaned it up before leaving. Unfortunately a management change caused some problems in my senior year. They didn't like the idea of the show and almost canceled it. After much negotiation they continued to play it but with the proviso that we wouldn't do things like throw stuff or use water guns. Dammit.

On the weekend of my senior prom I had rented a tux complete with purple cummerbund and bow tie of course... so why not use it the second night to go to Rocky! After my graduation a group of my "outside of school" friends gave me a party to celebrate, complete with cap and gown, right before the showing of Rocky. One of my favorite things to do after the show was to fill the back end of my truck with friends and go skinny-dipping at a lake in Towanda, Kansas of all places. My gosh, I wonder why we never got caught.

When I made a new friend, I took them to Rocky to try to figure out if they were "cool" or not. One co-worker actually freaked out and never really talked with me again... ok, she was uncool. I didn't care if they preferred not to memorize long lists of script and sub-text script... I just wanted to see if they were open-minded enough to not freak when seeing a man in heels, corset, and torn up fishnets singing about giving yourself over to absolute pleasure.

Not long after moving to Berlin in 2005 I began to see posters advertising the LIVE Rocky Horror Show. OMG! I HAD to be there! I told N. and her parents that I would like to see it and soon it was a family affair. M&FIL bought us tickets (thanks folks) and the day approached when we would get to see Frank n Furter and crew.

When we arrived at the venue I was a bit disappointed, no one had dressed up. Oh well. I had brought some toilet paper and a water gun just in case my fellow audience members decided to par-tis-i-pate as others have done around the world for decades. Much to my delight, as each person walked into the seating area they received a special "packet"! It had TP, a water gun (whoops, no water... what?) a few pages of Bild, and a firecracker "popper" thing which would explode with bits of paper at the appropriate party moment. All of this came with an information sheet which explained when to use the items... COOL!

I was completely blown away when I discovered that our seats were in the BACK ROW! Um... OK, so being far away from the action is one thing, but in Rocky Horror Picture Show there is a call-back shout during the song "Science Fiction Double Feature". ("Where's the best place to fuck?" "In the back row..." "FUCK THE BACK ROW!!") In over 200 viewings of RH, I NEVER sat in the back row... it just wasn't done!

Although my Parents in Law are pretty cool, I'm afraid they might not have passed my high school coolness qualification. They remained quiet and reserved throughout the show, something I've since learned is very much a German trait. They only joined in the clapping with the music when the rest of the crowd was in hysterics. When I handed him the toilet paper to throw, FIL threw the entire roll instead of holding onto the trailing end... and of course it hit an unsuspecting guy in the back of the head. Well, at least there was no trail leading back to FIL.

But then it was within months of their only daughter not only coming out as gay, but also marrying that crazy American. Long story, they didn't know ANYTHING until about five days before our wedding date. This was after six years of "friendship". They were treating me very nicely by buying us tickets to this wild show, and they even managed to have large smiles on their face at the pause. Maybe they had already passed the "cool test" eh?

My Sweet N. has let me know that she is simply not excited about seeing Rocky live on stage again... but of course I'm ready to go buy tickets today. Would anyone else like to go with me?

Don't dream it, be it.

The Neo-maxie-zoom-dweebies at MTV have decided to remake the Rocky Horror Picture Show. It simply seems like an act of stupidity. The first one sucked as far as the movie experience goes... why on earth would you try to remake it?... Money I suppose.

Guess what we're having for dinner on Sunday?

We'll have a couple of friends over Sunday late afternoon. When asked what they wanted to eat, I was told to come up with something American. Hm... Apple pie? Should I feed them a burger and fries or what? So I decided to go with something I've been hungry for and just haven't had the time/energy/reason to put it all together. Tex-Mex. Hey, that's pretty American isn't it?

Tomorrow's menu: Burritos, (from scratch meat mix is stewing on the stove right now) oven-made nachos, and the ingredient I'm most excited about... homemade guacamole! I perused the stalls at Winterfeld Markt Saturday morning for the perfect avocados, picked out some plump tomatoes, found some WONDERFUL hot chilis, a bit of green onion, fresh lemon juice as a preservative, ground sea salt... oh my, this is going to be great stuff.

This time I decided not to go for the REALLY FRESH tortillas from the local Mexican guy who delivers all kinds of food. Nah, I'll give the Fuego brand one more try. Also I found SALTED tortilla chips at Kaiser's. OK, this is an event! No silly curry-flavored nacho chips for us! Hell, I even sprung for the 2.89 EUR can of Fuego refried beans to see if they're any good. Now all I need is an ice bucket full of Corona and I'm all set!

Anyone want to join us?

It is coming!

Today I saw my first REAL RED and YELLOW leaves!

I am so excited! Fall is probably my favorite season.
The weather starts to change, the air becomes fresh - I always seem to breathe better in the fall. Part of me really enjoys the layering of clothes. It is nice to get all snuggly in a soft, warm sweater, jeans, light boots, and of course the season's first scarf. Ummph

Many of my best memories are of growing up in western Pennsylvania surrounded by literally thousands of trees. Some years it seemed the hardwoods would change colors overnight and drop all leaves within a week. Other times the fall lagged on for two months, starting in September with the last leaves being raked up in November.

It takes a good, hard early frost to produce the best leaf colors. I remember jumping for joy in the early morning as I would peer outside and see the first thick frost on the grass, this signals the beginning of the most beautiful season in one of the best places in the world to actually enjoy it.

Some people say the word Autumn instead of Fall. Not me. Not only does it sound pretentious (yup, I know the Brits are in this category), but Autumn doesn't have any real meaning behind it. Fall says exactly what happens... things FALL.

Leaves turning gold red and amber, apple picking, corn harvesting, pumpkin carving, high school football when you can still enjoy two hours outside without freezing, jumping into a pile of leaves just because you can, soup or chili in the slow cooker,wading through leaves knee deep on a forest walk, Mom canning her heart out while filling the kitchen producing such smells... ah, Fall.
Did I miss anything?

Been reading:
Don't Take His Word For It
Startle Response Linked to Politics
More Sensitive May Mean More Conservative, Study Finds

Some days I hope there is a heaven... this is one of them.

My dear Aunt Virginia has passed away.
Her struggle is over.